"Ah, Dougal. He's become quite the dandy. My other brothers and I can barely countenance him."

The squire chuckled. "I am certain it's just a phase. I spoke to your brother about investing in a property with me." The squire puffed up his chest, sticking his thumbs through the b.u.t.tonholes of his fine woolen coat. "I'm a bit of a hand at turning a profit. It's a cold day indeed when Ned Higganbotham don 't come out on top! I shouldn't mention this, but I turned well more than twenty thousand pounds last year, and that was only on two ventures!"

"Ah," Gregor said smoothly. "That explains why you were speaking with Dougal. He can smell a good investment a hundred miles away."

"He's right sharp, I'll grant you that. My G.o.dfather, the Duke of Richmond, says he knows his funds are in a good place when he releases some to me. I've made him a tidy profit in the last decade, I can tell you that."

Mrs. Bloom came forward, her eyes agleam at the mention of a real live duke. "How do you do? I am Mrs. Bloom. I'm on my way to visit my friend, the Countess of c.u.mberland. Did I hear you say you are a member of White's?"

"Aye. I've been a member since I was seventeen, as was m'father and m'father's father."

Venetia, who was rubbing Miss Higganbotham's icy cold hands between her own, caught sight of Gregor's expression. A frown rested between his eyes, the tight lines down each side of his mouth indicating displeasure about something. Venetia frowned. The squire had said nothing untoward; why would Gregor look so stern? It was almost as if he disapproved of their new company.

She glanced at the squire. He was rather rotund, with a protuberant nose and reddish skin. His features were broad and common, but his eyes shone with good humor, and though he was a bit coa.r.s.e in his speech and dress, he seemed nice enough. It was a pity Gregor was holding the squire in dislike for nothing more than a rough manner.

Mrs. Treadwell brought in a tray holding a steaming pot of tea and an a.s.sortment of cups and saucers. She set it down beside Miss Higganbotham and poured a cup. "Here ye are, miss! This'll warm ye up!"

She placed the cup and saucer in Miss Higganbotham's hands, but the girl was shaking so much that half the tea sloshed into the saucer before her maid leapt forward and rescued it. The girl set the brew back on the table. "She's done frozed through 'n' through. The carriage fell into a drift, and we was tossed into a puddle, the both o' us!" The maid turned to show the back of her cloak completely wet. "Miss Higganbotham's is the same, 'tis just that I'm more used to the cold than she is."

"La!" Mrs. Treadwell took Miss Higganbotham's hands between her own and rubbed them briskly. "We'd best get ye out of those wet clothes before ye take ill!"

Venetia turned to the squire. "Miss Higganbotham may stay with me in my room and-"

Gregor interrupted. "No."

Silence met this.

Venetia's cheeks heated. "Gregor, what do you mean?"

"I'm certain the squire would rather not stay."

Venetia's brows rose, while the squire flushed a deep red. "Now, see here," he began, but Gregor cut him short.

"It will be grossly inconvenient for all involved; there's hardly s.p.a.ce for the five of us as it is. I'm certain that Miss Higganbotham merely needs a few moments to compose herself, and you'll be able to leave. I will even see to it that your injured horse is replaced." He met the squire's gaze evenly. "Besides, I daresay you were in a hurry to reach London, or you wouldn't have been traveling in such weather to begin with."

The squire sent his daughter a hard look before saying in an abrupt tone, "That's true; we were in a hurry. I had thought to reach my brother's house before nightfall, but the roads are far worse than I'd imagined."

"It's daylight still. You should be able to reach Eddington in less than an hour. There is a lovely inn there." Gregor turned to Mr. Treadwell. "Isn't there?"

Mr. Treadwell blinked. "Aye, but 'tis four miles, and the roads-"

"I am certain they're pa.s.sable," Gregor said curtly.

"With the snow melting-"

Miss Higganbotham sneezed.

The squire's expression darkened.

Venetia took the poor young lady's hand and pulled her to her feet. "Enough of this. I won't hear another word about anyone going back out in that weather. The snow may be melting, but it's still piled high, and travel would be dangerous."

"Aye, and making a muck where it has already melted," the squire said briskly. "There's drifts as high as my head and muddy spots as could swallow a carriage."

"There you go, m'dear," the squire told his daughter bluffly as Venetia led her from the room. "Thank you, Miss-ah? I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

Venetia had started to reply when something about Gregor made her shoot him a look. He returned her regard grimly, his eyes shimmering with anger. The look took her aback, and she had to compose herself before she replied. "I am Miss West, and this"-she gestured to Ravenscroft, who'd leapt up to hold the door-"is my brother, Mr. West."

"Nice to know you," the squire said, bowing briefly. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter. Elizabeth, you go with the nice lady, and none of your shenanigans, do you hear?"

Miss Higganbotham sent her parent a glare from her fine blue eyes and chattered out, "I w-w-will st-st-stay here, but only until I f-f-feel better. Then I w-w-will leave!"

The squire's bushy brows lowered. "Stop being dramatic. Now, off to bed with you, and not another word!"

Miss Higganbotham lifted her chin, which still quivered piteously. "D-d-do as you wish, Father. M-m-my happiness has already been d-d-destroyed."

Venetia raised her brows. "Heavens! I wouldn't say that. The inn's nice and warm, and your tremors are already receding."

"It's not the cold, it's my circ.u.mstances," the young woman said. "I am n-n-not here willingly; I am b-b-being abducted!"

Miss Platt's mouth dropped open.

Mrs. Bloom uttered, "Well! I never!"

Ravenscroft's fists clenched as if he yearned to fight whoever had perpetrated the evil deed.

Gregor glanced at Venetia to see if she'd witnessed her paramour's reaction but found her slipping a sympathetic arm around the girl. "Oh, my dear! Who abducted you?"

"H-h-he has!" Miss Higganbotham proclaimed, pointing a trembling finger at the squire.

Venetia's brows rose. "Your own father?"

"Yes. I told him I will not g-g-go to London, e-e-even if I have to kill myself!"

Chapter 8.

I dinna think 'tis romantic when a man says he's willin' t' give his life fer the woman he loves. Give me instead a man who'd fight to keep us both alive and kickin'! There's naught romantic about a dead man, beau or no.

OLD WOMAN NORA FROM LOCH LOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD EVENING.

V enetia made the squire's daughter comfortable in her room, helping the poor girl to bed while her maid hovered nearby and Miss Platt clucked her concern.

"There, there," Miss Platt said, holding Miss Higganbotham's hand. "You'll be warmed soon."

"I hope so!" the girl said. "Though it w-would serve my father right if I d-d-died!"

"What a horrid thing to say!" Venetia said cheerfully, hanging Miss Higganbotham's cloak over the chair to dry.

"Yes," Miss Platt agreed. "Mrs. Bloom always says one should look for the positive."

Venetia turned a look toward Miss Platt. The homily didn't sound like the Mrs. Bloom they all knew and avoided.

"What p-positive?" Miss Higganbotham asked, her lips quivering.

The door opened then, and Mrs. Treadwell entered.

"Look!" Miss Platt said, smiling. "Mrs. Treadwell has brought an extra blanket and a warmed brick. That's two things to be thankful for!"

Mrs. Treadwell set the brick on the windowsill with the tongs nearby. "The brick's too hot for now, but the blanket can be used right away."

Venetia took the blanket and spread it over Miss Higganbotham. "There. While you're warming, you can tell us all about your travails."

Miss Higganbotham needed no more invitation to pour out her troubles. She explained how her father had wished her to go to London and be "sold upon the marriage mart" to bring a t.i.tle into the family. She had originally agreed, for who wouldn't wish to go to London for a season or two? But then she had met Henry, the son of the vicar. It was love at first sight, and a secret courtship had begun. Elizabeth knew her father had his sights set higher than Henry. She'd pressed her beau to elope, but Henry refused. He believed he could win the squire over if he talked to the old man and explained things.

Elizabeth refused to agree to this, fearful that her father would whisk her away where Henry would never find her. Before she and Henry could find a solution to their dilemma, the squire had happened upon one of the servants delivering a secret missive from the insistent Henry. The squire had exploded in fury and done exactly as Elizabeth had feared. Despite the raging snowstorm, he had packed up his daughter and headed for London, far away from Henry.

"Miss West," Miss Higganbotham said, reaching for Venetia's hand, "Father has indeed abducted me. He says I am to go to London, but I would rather die!"

"Aye," said Miss Higganbotham's maid, who hadn't stopped smiling once. "Miss Elizabeth is determined, she is. She'll not marry other than her Henry."

"How old are you, Miss Higganbotham?" Venetia asked.

Miss Higganbotham wiped her tears. "Sixteen."

That explained a good deal. Venetia helped Mrs. Treadwell place the wrapped brick under the covers near the girl's feet, then tucked the blanket back in place. "It sounds as if you have had a difficult time of it. For now, let's get you warmed up, and then, after you've rested, we'll see what's to be done."

"Yes," Miss Platt said, patting Miss Higganbotham's hand. "Miss West is a G.o.dsend. If anyone can help you, she can."

Venetia wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or worried by such unalloyed praise.

Mrs. Treadwell nodded. "Put your feet against that warm brick, my dear. I wrapped it in cloth so it won't burn, but oh, how toasty it will be!"

Miss Higganbotham's chattering stopped almost immediately. She sighed, snuggling beneath the covers, her eyes sliding shut. "Oh, how nice!" She forced her eyes open to smile at Venetia. "Thank you for making Father stay here, Miss West. I could not have gone another foot. Tomorrow, perhaps, you can find a way to a.s.sist my poor Henry and me." With that, her eyes slid shut, and she was asleep in a trice.

"I thought as much," Mrs. Treadwell said, picking up the tongs she'd used to carry the hot brick. " 'Tis nerves, is all."

The maid nodded brightly. "She has plenty of those, she do!"

"So we see," Mrs. Treadwell replied. "She'll be better for a nap. Do ye need anything, Miss West?"

"No, indeed. As usual, you have taken care of everything."

The innkeeper's wife beamed. "Oh, 'twas nothing. I may warm another brick and take it up to Elsie's room. She's had a bit of a headache, ye know, and asked to lie down a bit. Could be the very thing to set her to rights."

"I am certain it will," Venetia said.

"Let me know if ye need anything else." With a brisk nod, Mrs. Treadwell left, softly closing the door behind her.

Miss Platt hung the girl's wet clothes over the back of the chair. "I hope those will dry before she wakes."

"From the look of that thick wool and the amount of trim on her cloak, I don't believe Miss Higganbotham suffers from a lack of wardrobe," Venetia replied.

The maid nodded. "Oh, la! She has four trunks full, as the squire got her the best of everything. ' Tis why young Henry refused to run off with Miss Higganbotham. He said she was used to having nice things, and he'd be hanged if she'd ever go without because of him."

Venetia thought young Henry sounded like quite a gentleman. "Would you mind finding Miss Higganbotham's trunks and fetching some dry clothing?"

The maid bobbed a curtsey and went to the door, saying over her shoulder as she left, "I'll bring up enough for the week. With this weather, she might need it."

A week! Venetia hoped not.

Miss Platt ran a hand over Miss Higganbotham's fine cloak. "It's a beautiful cloak, isn't it?"

Venetia nodded. "The squire appears to have done well in life. Unfortunately, he seems overly aware of that fact."

"He was a bit full of himself, wasn't he?"

"Very. I daresay that is why he decided that his daughter was marrying to disoblige him. I almost feel sorry for the man she has fixed upon."

"I daresay her beau is a fine gentleman in spite of what the squire thinks," Miss Pratt said, her chin jutting out. "I don't usually take people into dislike, but he was so pompous! It quite makes me feel for poor Miss Higganbotham."

Venetia thought so, too. The poor child, dragged away from the man she loved, only to be subjected to a terrifying accident and left bruised and freezing cold. Worse, when she and her father had finally found shelter, Gregor had received them with all the warmth of the snow bank that had caused the accident.

She scowled. She could not believe Gregor would be so uncharitable.

"Miss West?"

Venetia turned to find Miss Platt standing beside her. "Yes?"

The thin woman clasped her hands, a glowing look in her eyes. "I must thank you!"

"Whatever for?"

"For suggesting that perhaps there were other avenues open to me. After poor Bertrand's situation, I had given up hope. But today, at breakfast, Mr. Ravenscroft-" Miss Platt broke off, a round spot of color on each cheek. "I never would have noticed him except for what you said to me before breakfast. I want to thank you for helping me see that there is more to life than fetching things for Mrs. Bloom."

Venetia hugged her. "I am just glad to see you smile."

"Thank you. I wish I could stay and help here, but I need to attend Mrs. Bloom, as there's a bit of sewing to be done this morning."

Venetia wondered how many st.i.tches Miss Platt would have to make before Mrs. Bloom considered their debt canceled.

Miss Platt patted Venetia's shoulder, then left, her head held high, a smile in her eyes.

Miss Higganbotham stirred at the sound of the door closing, turning to one side. As she did so, her mouth opened, and she emitted a huge snore. Venetia held her breath and waited, but the snoring did not abate.